


Peccadillos

by trancer



Category: Alias
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Plot What Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-15
Updated: 2006-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30,000 feet in the air, with no allies to back or rescue her, Sydney discovers the depth of Peyton and Anna’s relationship. And how far she's willing to go to maintain her cover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peccadillos

Sydney shifted in her seat. Tried valiantly to get comfortable, failing once more. The private jet was brand new, judging by the smell of the upholstery, the way the leather squeaked with the slightest of movements. But, it wasn’t the jet that made Sydney uncomfortable.

It was the company. She felt uncomfortable, like a lamb in the lion’s den. A lamb covered in slabs of raw, dripping meat, waiting for the moment the lion realized dinner had arrived.

Peyton sauntered towards her, an opened bottle of champagne in one hand, two glasses in the other. She placed the items on the small table before taking the seat across from Sydney, gently pouring the liquid into the glasses.

“A little early for champagne?”

Peyton raised an eyebrow. “You did _NOT_ just say that?”

Sydney rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to remember she was no longer Sydney but Anna Espinoza. “It’s this body,” she said, adding the slightest tinge of a Cuban accent. “I’m just oozing with self-righteous moralizing.”

“I know,” Peyton leaned back in her seat chuckling. “Just looking at you makes me want to hit you.”

“I’d kick your ass.”

“Promises, promises,” she began removing her shoes, setting her bare feet on the space next to Sydney‘s legs. Familiar. Close. She placed an elbow on the armrest, tilting her head, setting it on her hand. She was studying Sydney. A long slow examining gaze that made Sydney shift in her seat.

“Tell me something about me I don’t know. Something about Anna that would shock my virgin ears.”

“Mmm,” Peyton purred, lifted a foot, began sliding it up Sydney’s thigh. “Where should I start? That Anna was insatiable? How she was *always* in the mood? Always ready, willing and oh so very able. Or would you like to know something a bit more risqué like the handcuffs and her affinity for spanking?”

Sydney feigned a shocked response which, considering this new information, wasn’t exactly hard. Not hard compared to ignoring the foot sliding up the inside of her thigh. “How shocking.”

“I know,” Peyton grinned. “That’s not even including the things she could do with a candle. Makes you wonder what’s really going on in those Cuban prisons.” She added with a wiggle of her toes that made Sydney almost jump out of her seat.

“But,” Sydney grabbed Peyton’s foot, lifting it back onto her thigh. Began a slow kneading motion on the fleshy ball. “It’s not like you were complaining.”

“Complain,” she purred, licking her lips as her eyes followed Sydney’s massaging hand. “Is definitely not the word I’d use. Moan, scream, gasp would be more accurate terms.”

“You’re such a bottom.”

Peyton angrily removed her foot, rising from her chair. “I am NOT a bottom!”

Sydney blinked, slowly, deliberately, she was no longer Sydney now. “If Anna were here, what would she say to this little display?”

She watched as Peyton softened. The woman moved forward, straddling Sydney’s lap. She drew her arms over wide broad shoulders. “Anna would say,” planted a soft kiss on the edge of her jaw. “Someone needs to learn their place.” She kissed the corner of Sydney’s mouth, her eyes hot, angry and seductive. “Too bad Anna‘s not here.”

“Yeah, too bad,” Sydney slid a hand up Peyton’s back, wove her fingers through soft, brown hair. Gripped the hair tight in her hand. And when she felt the pull of Peyton’s scalp, yanked back viciously. Peyton gasped, low and throaty, mouth open and smiling. “What would Anna do now?”

Peyton licked her lips and Sydney felt the woman shuddering in her arms. “She’d torture me.”

“How?”

“If I have to tell you..”

“Yes,” Sydney accented with a none too graceful, nor painless, tug on Peyton‘s scalp. “You do.”

Her eyes lolled into the back of her head, lids fluttering closed, a strained grunt exhaled across her lips. “She’d make me beg.”

“Beg for what, Peyton?”

“Beg her to fuck me.”

“Yes, I guess she would.” Hurriedly, aggressively, like Anna, Sydney yanked open the coal-grey slacks, slid her hand between the opened thighs, pressed hard against the wet heat slicking her fingers. “Like this?” With two fingers, she thrust hard and deep, a keening gasp erupting from Peyton’s throat as if she were trying to exhale and inhale at once. Body shuddering as she gripped Sydney’s fingers tightly.

“Yes!” Peyton began grinding her hips.

Sydney withdrew her fingers, teasingly danced them across the heated flesh. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Please,” blew across her lips. Pained and forced.

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me, Anna.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Sydney taunted her. “I’m not Anna, remember.”

“Please, Sydney.”

She rewarded Peyton with a hard thrust of her fingers, deep and ruthless. Peyton curling in her arms, head buried in Sydney’s shoulder. Hips arched forward to meet Sydney’s thrusts.

It was a cover, Sydney forcibly reminded herself. A cover that made her run her tongue along the line of Peyton’s neck. Shudder from the soft  vibrations of Peyton’s keening moans against her tongue. That only Anna Espinosa would respond so vigorously to Peyton’s proclivities. She had a mission to complete. A duty to do whatever it took to get the job done. Even if that job meant throwing herself over the line she’d always danced upon.

Peyton came hard and quick, clenching around Sydney’s fingers as her body convulsed. And Sydney watched, transfixed. The way Peyton’s eyes clamped closed, the slack openness of her mouth, the twitch of facial muscles, as if, even in the throes of passion, she were still trying to maintain some semblance of control. After several moments of uncomfortable afterglow, Peyton began giggling.

“If I’d known fucking Sydney Bristow would be this good, I would have tied her down and ridden her a long time ago.”

“Perhaps,” Sydney withdrew her fingers, began painting Peyton’s lips with her own wetness. Took a momentary delight in the raspy texture of the wanting tongue and soft lips. Thought about duty and honor, then Peyton and Anna, and all the things she could do to Peyton *because* of that duty and honor.

“But,” Peyton leaned back, the Cheshire cat grin returned on her lips. “Would Sydney be as good with handcuffs?”

Sydney pulled her own coy grin. “There’s only one way to find out.”

END  



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